


1, 2, 3, Got 'cha

by ShadyQuiet



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: ...Will probably add more, AU, Angst, Barebacking, Car Sex, Cruelty, Emotional pain, Enemas, Gags, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Manhandling, Non Consensual, Object Insertion, Object rape, Physical Abuse, Plugging, Rape, Rape Recovery, Recovery, Rescue, Restraints, Somnophilia, Stirrups, Urm... Inappropriate use of alco-gel?, emotional distress, gagging, hitting/smacking around, kidnap, non-con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-07
Updated: 2013-03-27
Packaged: 2017-12-04 14:05:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/711567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadyQuiet/pseuds/ShadyQuiet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for this prompt on SPN Kink meme:</p>
<p>Request: Jensen/Misha Jared/Misha non-con au kidnapping<br/>After a date with his boyfriend Jensen, Misha is kidnapped and raped by Jared. <br/>Include any kink, just please make sure Jensen finds Misha and they have a happy ending.</p>
<p>So, yeah, that's what's going down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hope its okay to fill this like this?... Never tried filling a prompt before! You said any kinks, so I hope some somnophilia is okay (only by Jared). If not, I haven’t written that bit yet, so do say! Otherwise so far there’s: Car sex, lap sex, manhandling, mild exibitionism (sp?), over-sensitivity… and I think that’s it! Sorry about the build up before as well, the kidnapping and rape will come in the next part.

Misha wasn't quite sure how long he'd been out drinking with Jensen before they stumbled back to the Texan's house. Fourth of July parties were always a great excuse to go out in an otherwise lacking month. Summer was cool, but the blue eyed man was having to work hard to get Jensen into the mood of going out when he went naturally heat-lazy...

He'd make it work.

The night they had post drinking was so unbelievably awesome that Misha couldn't discern one orgasm from the other. Jensen could be a kinky son of a bitch when he wanted, and Misha himself wasn't exactly known for being vanilla. He was still a little drunk, to be honest with himself, when he stumbled out of Jensen's house the next morning.

Jensen, ever the gentleman, drove him home. Somehow they'd decided it was a great idea. Jensen managed to sober up pretty quickly though.

"You gonna be alright for the weekend babe?" Misha was so light headed he snorted, pushing sunglasses further up his nose.

"I was alone before I found you, Jen, I'm pretty sure that I can manage whilst you visit your mom." Jensen punched him playfully and Misha giggled, knocking back until the car swerved alarmingly and they both grabbed on. A few moments of adrenaline-packed silence later and they were laughing.

"God you are so too drunk to be driving! Take a taxi to the airport." Misha ordered, and pushed a twenty into his partner's shirt pocket, taking time to rub over a sensitised nipple. Jensen grinned through a gasp and swatted his hand away.

"What I gave you last night that wasn't enough?" Misha offered up a lazy smile.

"I'll call it a taster. You'll owe me double when you get back. Missing your own boyfriend's birthday." He condemned, mockingly. Jensen turned speculative eyes on him, brows crinkling into that sneaky suggestive look.

"Oh yeah? Reckon you can take it huh?" Misha shivered a bit at the dark promise in that southern voice, but held his ground.

"Gonna be planning dirty things to do to me whilst your mom is around? You're one kinky SOB."

"You love it. You're the one who'd make white look dirty." Misha raised his hands in defence.

"Hey, just 'cause I can take it doesn't mean I'm a pervert." Jensen gave him that smile that suggested he was humouring the smaller man as he pulled over outside Misha's house.

"Course it doesn't, princess. Now come here and kiss me goodbye. Make it count." Misha smirked at the challenge. Leaning over, forgetting about the seatbelt but quite liking the restrained feeling, he took Jensen's face and licked slowly into the man's mouth.

Misha's fingers trailed behind his mouth as he caressed his lover's lips, shifting up in the seat to get leverage and slipping the tips of his fingers in to hook at Jensen's tongue teasingly.

Jensen was put a bit by surprise of the dual presence of fingers and tongue, but reached to grip Misha's hips tightly, supporting him, as the messy-haired man deepened his ministrations. Sensually their tongues swirled together, occasionally getting caught and held in place by Misha's slippery fingers whilst the shorter man worked magic.

A few moans later from Jensen, and breathy gasps from Misha, the Texan pushed him away regretfully, setting him back on his twisted legs. The taller man pressed a series of sucking kisses to Misha's lips in apology as the other grumbled in annoyance, his hand reached up to grab one spit-slicked one.

"Sorry babe," Jensen begun with an apologetic smile, looking over the top of his glasses in a way both puppyish and smouldering. Misha huffed and pouted a bit on purpose, Jensen grinned. "Hey, I've got to get on a plane gorgeous, besides, you've got to be sore after last night, I didn't even have to prep you the last two times."

"And you still wouldn't." Misha smirked, leaning a bit closer and rubbing his wet fingers dry on his flat stomach where his t-shirt rode up. "That would save you some time wouldn't it? I could just slip right over and sit on you right now, you could push right in, I'm still wet from your ridiculous amount of Texan sperm." Jensen chocked a bit, but his hands gripped tighter.

"Y-your neighbours-"

"It's barely dawn, Jen." He leant closer, wriggling a little until he could whisper in the man's ear, adding a little whine to his voice that Misha would swear was put on, rather than fuelled by his own desperation. "Please, I can feel you dripping out of me, want you-" Misha was abruptly jerked forwards into a near sprawl on Jensen's lap, squeaking a little in surprise.

"Jesus Christ Misha when you beg..." Misha was manhandled around until he was back to chest with Jensen and large, strong hands were undoing his button and zipper without a single fumble. Misha whined and tried to shift his hips as those insistent hands pushed his pants and boxers right down, but the dash and steering wheel made it nearly impossible to move. "Gonna hold you to your words you fucking tease. Push in in one go and see you squirm." Misha may have chocked in want, glancing around at the nice, quiet neighbourhood he lived in.

"F-fuck Jen," He was cut off when Jensen shifted and undid his own zipper, knuckles pudging into the globes of Misha's ass as the smaller man tried to support his own weight with hands on the edge of the seat to help.

"Shh, I got you." Jensen could pick the strangest times to sooth and encourage him, Misha contemplated, as his legs, still trapped in his clothes, were hoisted to hook over the steering wheel and the Texan's own came up to bracket them on the dash, spread out and braced for action. Misha's breathing sped up in anticipation and he laughed a little, breathlessly.

"Damn, stud, gonna breed me like a horse or something?" He quipped, Jensen's hands tightened for a moment on his waist before squeezing teasingly, Misha could feel the strength coiled in those golden, muscled arms. When the man spoke, it was with a smile in his voice.

"Well, little princess like you, thought you might like to take a real ride." there was no time to reply as Misha was lifted by the hips and he felt the tip of Jensen's thick cock breach his overused entrance. "God you weren't kidding, fucking wet as a slut." Misha, held in place, tried to turn a little to raise a patented eyebrow.

"And here I thought you were calling me your princess."

"Yeah but you ain't no virgin." With than Jensen dragged Misha down in one long movement. The smaller man writhed and wriggled at the insistent push. He was sore, but the burn was numbed a little by how filthy-wet he felt, the squelching sound of Jensen filling him lubed by his own come. "So fucking loose babe." Jensen complemented with a breathless groan, and pulled down harshly the rest of the way.

Misha whined and grabbed onto the over-window handle, momentarily wondering why they were even put in cars unless it was designed for this. He tried using it to rise up a little, feeling pressure despite his sloppy hole, just close to too much of how much strain he liked to put on himself. He'd be fucking raw after this. Jensen held him steady in his lap however.

"Uh uh, you ain't driving this train Misha, know you can take it." Misha breathed in to regulate himself and let go, squirming where he was held impaled on Jensen's hardened cock.

"J-Jen," He pleaded, legs shaking at the spreading burn. Jensen took it to heart, probably realising that despite his lover's impressive stamina, there were limits getting reached.

Misha could only arch and gasp in breaths as Jensen started working his hips and thighs, feet braced on the windscreen as he fucked up into the wet, dripping hole.

It wasn't the best angle for either of them, but the slow build after last night's activities left both of them feeling double friction from sensitivity. Misha grabbed Jensen's arms where the man's hands grabbed his waist and held on for dear life, feeling the brush against his prostate just enough to turn the building burn of pain into pleasure.

His eyes scanned the peaceful neighbourhood as thrills caught his heart. Jensen seemed to catch on.

"What would your neighbours say if they saw you like this huh?" He panted out suggestively.

"Th-they might have to get closer to find out-" He was cut off by his own confused noise as Jensen's hands left his waist and began ripping off his t-shirt, nearly knocking off his shades. "Jensen what the-"

"Thought they should see how desperate you really are, babe." He smirked, breathless. Misha squirmed in both delicious embarrassment at being nearly naked and sitting on Jensen's clothed body, impaled, and the building pressure from just having his partner's cock filling up his ass, unmoving.

"Jens-en" He whined, breath catching, struggling a little against the feelings threatening to consume him.

"Okay, okay, shh, I've got ya." Jensen instantly began thrusting again, causing Misha to moan in relief and sag against him, one of the man's hands came round to thumb at the slit of the smaller man's weeping cock until he bucked and cried with the mix of pleasure/pain.

"Dripping all over yourself and naked for me, you should see yourself, such a hot fucked mess. Know your still sensitive from that stimulation earlier too." And he was. Misha whined and writhed at the relentless rubs along his slit, electricity running through him and building up even as he panted and nearly sobbed, legs kicking out.

"Jensen! Pl-please, please I can't, too much,"

"Shh, not for you, come for me." Jensen tightened his grip and rubbed harder until Misha shouted as his body spasmed, feeling the girth of his lover's cock inside him so much more as he tightened around it. The low moan in his ear and Jensen's iron grip on his hip was followed with the feel of warm fluid filling him yet again, thick and dribbling out everywhere thanks to how loose and swollen his entrance was now.

Heavy breathing filled the car for several long moments as Jensen soothingly stroked his cock until he wriggled, turning his flushed face into the crook of the other man's neck for some rarely-sought comfort. Jensen took heed of the way he reacted and Misha's legs trying to come up to shield himself, and let go, rubbing his stomach instead and chuckling a little. Misha felt the softening cock slip out of his gaping hole with a little squirm at the feeling.

"Easy babe." Jensen chuckled, soothing down his sides before helping pull back on Misha's discarded top. He managed to catch his breath, still sensitive and mind-blown from the orgasm, laughing a little himself as he eased himself up a bit, Jensen helping to lift his legs off the wheel.

"Think you'll remember me now?" He teased, grinning in self-satisfaction. Jensen smacked him lightly on his still exposed rump, gaining an amused yelp.

"Get out of my car before I kidnap you." Together they wiggled into clothes and back into a respectable position for sitting in a car, laughing every now and then. The sun was warm through the windscreen and the car may be a whole lot steamier since they started this morning.

"So, you'll be back Sunday evening?" Jensen nodded, reaching affectionately to push Misha's shades back up his face. Misha bit at his finger teasingly before kissing it.

"Come 'ere." Jensen pulled him into a much softer kiss, gentle with promise. "Yeah, I'll come find you, okay?"

"You better." Misha commanded with a raised eyebrow, he was smiling though as he opened the door behind him. "You know better than to keep a lady waiting. Especially a princess."

Jensen laughed as Misha slipped out of the car and stumbled over to his door. They exchanged a wave of 'see ya' and Misha turned to unlock his door as Jensen turned back the way they came and drove off. Bed had his name written all over it.

Misha tore off clothes and fell naked on top of his bed, too hot for the covers, falling asleep nearly instantly with a smile on his face.

Unbeknownst to him, the door to the bathroom opened, and a tall figure came out to stare down at the welcome gift that had fallen into his lap. And to think, he'd only come to jack the wifi so that he could use it next door. This was a much sweeter prize.

Warm, wet and ready for him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahem, I feel kinda dirty right now…I may run and write some fluff next. I’ve never written this stuff before, so apologies if it sucks, I hope someone is tickled by it. This has also taken a small mind of its own; I hope that’s still okay for whoever requested this!
> 
> Also, who the fuck knows why Jared suddenly became a creepy frickin' doctor... I sure don't.

Jared eyed the man he’d seen as his neighbour a couple of times previously, admiring the naked sprawl of limbs. He couldn’t lie, he’d looked before, but he’d been keeping a distance for now, after all, this was a new home for him.

But seeing the offering, his mouth watered. The smell of alcohol in the air and sex was answer enough as to his neighbour’s state… delicious state.

Carefully, he sat down beside the bed, not worried in the least about restraining the smaller man should need arise. With an appraising stare he ghosted a hand down the long curve of spine. The lithe body beneath him shivered.

So responsive. Jared internally praised, a smirk curving his lips. His fingers trailed lower, taking his time, and pressed between ass cheeks down, down…

There was a resistant moan, not of waking, just of protest, as he easily slipped three fingers right away into the relaxed, swollen entrance. Another man’s seed spurted out between his fingers, recent deposit. There were already copious amounts coating the smooth thighs and presented rump. Some one had had a good night. Jared could feel himself growing tense, angry. Another man had been inside, a blemish on otherwise such a perfect form, marring both inside and out... Well, this was Jared’s gift now, and he had to fix it. Nobody would get inside this one again. His hand tightened, curling enough to bring a sharp yelp and confused shuffle out of the man beneath him.

“You’ve gotten a bit dirty haven’t you?”

 

ooo

 

It was the voice, more than the touch, that woke Misha, first freezing, then slowly turning. His heart clenched in shock when he saw a man leaning over him, tall and moving closer.

No one he fucking knew.

“Oh my God!” Misha cried out, and tried to struggle away. His movements were easily restrained by large hands and held still. Misha thrashed, snarling, trying to throw the other man off in a growing blind panic. This couldn’t be happening, couldn’t be happening. Not in his own house!

“Get the fuck off me!” He sounded more terrified than outraged and the man performed a simple move that twisted Misha’s arm around behind his back to the point of breaking. He hissed, and predicted a warning, but instead the movement continued until he was convulsing with pain and a large crack broke through the room over his screams of agony.

“Now, be good and let me fix you, or else I’ll do it again.” The laughter in the voice was horrible. Misha registered in barely through the pain, face screwed up. Weight of a body and the feel of a shirt coated his back as the man lent close, breath hissing into the smaller man’s ear.

“Trust me, I’m a doctor.” Misha cried and struggled fruitlessly, nausea gripping him as his body shuddered in fear, but as soon as his arm shifted he screamed again and the man sighed.

Next thing he knew his body was thrown over and there was a pressure on his chest, the man sitting there and with an almost calculating look covering his throat with both hands and squeezing.

Pure terror sank teeth into Misha and he gasped and thrashed once more, uncaring of the pain, scrabbling hands over the constriction tightening his airways, crushing and twisting. Tears sprung into his eyes and he thought desperately of Jensen, of how he couldn’t even be back at his house yet, of how he was about to die.

Light faded from Misha’s world as his struggles slowed. There was a chuckling above him, and an easing off of pressure, some small air flooded his lungs in a tiny, constricted gasp. Then the weight was back, forcing air out with a sobbed whoosh. Too long passed before the next breath and Misha blacked out even as he was allowed to inhale.

 

ooo

 

The world was foggy as he came to, and the first thing he noticed was the heavy weight on his chest. Events flooded back to him and Misha lurched up, only to discover that the weight was his own casted arm. He stared at it in confusion, and then around the room, hoping madly that he was in a hospital…

The dusty walls that greeted him were crushing.

An attic, judging by the sloping roof. Dread knotted deep inside his stomach, and his heart thundered.

“Oh God, oh God,” He mumbled under his breath, voice high and panicked. His eyes swung around the room, taking in the single bed, a chain going to his ankle from the foot of the bed, several…implements, that he didn’t want to think about. Couldn’t look too close at without feeling sick.

“Oh fucking God.” The whimper passed around the room. A creak echoed up from beneath him, and Misha’s breath froze in his chest.

There were steps, and a large trap door was thrown open.

Misha shrank back as the man from before came into the room, aware of just how naked he was.

“Awake already? Good-“

“Wh-who the hell are you! What do you w-want from me?” What started as a shout ended as a whimper. The man smiled without looking friendly and came over.

“Call me doctor. Now, what’s your name.” The man settled beside him, grin wide as if he knew this role play off by heart, and loved every minute of it. Misha’s heart quivered in fear as his shaking started again.

How long had it been since Jensen left? Not long, apparently, if he was ‘awake already’. A lightning movement and Misha’s head snapped to the side with a smack as he was backhanded.

“Name.” Came the harder tone. Misha didn’t have a fucking clue what to do, say his name and keep the peace or refuse and keep his backbone.

“Wh-what are you going to do to me?” He countered with instead, mind spinning. How could he get out? How the hell could he get out?

There was a sigh and the man reached into his pocket, pulling out latex gloves that he snapped on. Misha drew back, eyes narrowing.

“I didn’t want to have to do this already, but I see you’re going to be difficult.” With a movement he couldn’t evade Misha was grabbed and thrown onto the floor roughly, the pain of hitting his arm made him yelp again, stars blotting his eyes. The smaller man didn’t have time to look around before large hands so foreign to Jensen’s were dragging him up by the hips till his ass was in the air.

Misha went to struggle but before he could something thick and cold was shoved roughly inside him. The burn had him screaming, half hoping that someone would hear, feeling ripping and pain as he twisted to get away. The ‘doctor’ held him steady and began with firm, practiced movements to fuck the object into him hard and fast.

“Give me your name.” The man demanded again, voice calm. Misha fought harder to get away, legs skidding out to the side and his one working arm clawing the floor. The pain was jolting up through him and tears stung his eyes at the humiliation and embarrassment, fighting to get the horribly un-giving and large object out of him.

“It’s your own fault for being such a dirty bitch. Now, tell me your name.” Somewhere it clicked that this might stop, he had to make it stop.

“M-Misha! Misha!” He screamed. The thing shoved deeper into him and jerked cruelly causing him to howl in pain.

“Full name!”

“Collins!” Misha sobbed, desperate and terrified. “Misha Collins,” The thing was yanked out and Misha collapsed back to the ground, sobbing and trying to breath though his heart was thundering in an escape. His mind flashed to Jensen, flashed to the fact that no body knew where he was, that he had no control and was with a mad man hell bent on playing some sick twisted game-

“There, that wasn’t so hard now was it?” Misha’s mind short circuited in panic and he vomited all over the floor, catching himself as well as the floorboards. His sobs caught the air in his raw throat, trying to think, trying to make this make sense. It couldn’t be happening, but clearly was.

“Alright, lets get started.” The man clapped his hands and stood. “Now, would you prefer glass or plastic?” The question made absolutely no sense enough that it jerked him to pay attention. He looked around as if turning to face a car wreck.

“W-wha…” ‘Doctor’ was holding up two thick probes attached to lines and…water bottles? He had no idea, but knew he wanted it no where the fuck near him. “What the fucking hell?” He near whispered, shifting backwards only to slip in his own vomit and shuddering. The doctor huffed in annoyance and came over fast. Misha scuttled away with a gasp but was caught by the ankle chain and yanked back till his head hit the floor with a groan.

“If you don’t stay still I can never repair the damage to get you better, now hold still.” Misha had no intention to do any such fucking thing. He kicked out but was cuffed sharply around the head and arranged as he had been, on his shoulders and knees. With a cry he fought away and the man punched him hard in the back, sending him to the floor.

“I see you’re a wriggler.” Misha looked on through weak eyes and saw the man lift up something slick and metallic and vaguely phallic-like… The meaning was clear. Misha looked between the thing, and the tubing, and panted rapidly, eyes wide and dumb with fear. This time, when the doctor moved him into position, Misha didn’t fight it, too paralyzed by the knowledge that he couldn’t escape, and was going to suffer something whatever he did.

“Please.” He whispered, voice catching. The doctor smiled in that creepy-cheerful way again and pulled the tubing over.

“Don’t worry, I’m going to make you all better.” Misha’s breath chocked and he closed his eyes in shame and pain, teeth clenching as the hardened probe, just shy of the size of his lover’s cock was pushed slowly into his ass. It fucking hurt and Misha writhed despite the threat of more pain, trying to think of anything else, but thinking of anything else just made the whole thing seem so much more inescapable.

“Hold still, this might be a bit uncomfortable.” Misha expected vibration, spikes or anything… but when the man shifted the probe till it plugged in him, and then stood…

Misha squirmed away with a cry as icy cold fluid flooded into his rectum and further in an unstoppable gush. He panted and sobbed and writhed on the floor, face burning, insides swelling, panting harshly. The doctor grabbed his hips and held him so that he had to take it. The floor burned his hands, arms and knees as he fought against the pressure, the need to expel so great that it blocked nearly all else from his mind as he convulsed and shook, trying to spread his legs to accommodate and then clench them shut at the penetration.

Just when he thought he was going to burst the plug was ripped out, but he was still held, suspended with his ass in the air and the horrible pressure pushing at his organs. Finally, slowly, he was lowered to the ground. As soon as the angle had changed enough the wretched fluid gushed out of him as he squirmed at the wet, dirtying feeling, trying to move out the way but it was impossible, and there was too much.

“There, that’s got the last of that man out of you.” Misha sobbed, still slowly leaking over himself and the floor, wet and cold and used. The last traces of Jensen on him, in him, being flushed out. Misha felt more alone for the doctor’s words than he had before, and curled up to try and hide himself, starting to cry in great shivers. The pain of clenching his hands and biting his lips wasn’t nearly enough of a distraction, but kept him from sobbing out that he wanted Jensen. Wanted him to be here, to come save him.

“Doctor Jared’s going to make you all better, clean and new and ripe for me to take.”

Misha chocked and curled himself tighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos! I might not get anything up tomorrow as I have to go build things whilst pretending I'm a nice person... wish me luck.  
> Review if you're feeling bountiful or critical, I would be very grateful. ;)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one's a bit shorter! Just wanted to get something up tonight.  
> I swear the other requested stuff is coming! Definitely. I just have a habit of stretching things out, hope that's okay!  
> Good news is I now have a rough chapter plan :)

Doctor Jared had Misha scared out of his wits. The man had dragged him to a far off corner and wiped him meticulously clean with alcoholic gel. He had been nothing but thorough. Misha had cringed and cried as he was manoeuvred about at the huge man’s will.

He didn’t dare fight, not anymore. Of all the atrocities thus far this one seemed the least frightful. The slow, deliberate examination of his body however was intrusive and left him shaking with resistance, repulsion and fear.

Each finger held and delicately wiped clean, the thin skin under his eyes as they watered from the fumes. His flesh was left feeling cold and coated in the foreign substance. The smell raising enough to make him gag.

The nausea could also be the cause of the caressing wipes and from tying to hold himself still; even if every limb was tensed the man moved it with sickening ease. The gel stung the scrapes on his hands, knees and elbows, and made him scream and twist in the man’s grasp when it was rubbed over the head of his cock and the tube squeezed into his ass that felt so loose yet tightened in and raw that every movement of his legs hurt.

All the while he was informed that he was being made ‘better’, and the suggestion nearly made him hysterical.

“After this we’ll get you all rested up, get you ready.” His mind baulked at whatever he’d need to be ready for. Murder? Torture? Rape? He had no clue. Misha watched the man clean off each of his toes with almost fanatic care and then scrub at his sweat matted hair with the gel until it stuck up all over and reeked of the stuff.

Misha lay there, shivering and trying to normally breath as doctor Jared looked over him appraisingly, then reached over to shift his legs up and apart to observe his entrance. The scrutiny was painfully uncomfortable and he tried to wriggle away.

“No. That won’t do at all. I think another.” Misha jerked away but was grabbed round the middle and hoisted onto the bed, mattress hurriedly flipped and covered with a fresh sheet. As soon as the restraints came out, Misha started fighting again.

The scuffle was brief and cruel as a fist pummelled his head with a sickening blow that left his mouth tasting of blood and ash, head ringing. The smaller man cried as he was cuffed to the metallic headboard and dragged down until his arms were taught; broken one stretched enough to make him gasp in pain.

“Get you set up nice and stretched so that you can take your medicine.” Jared, Misha had removed the ‘doctor’ from his title forcefully, now grabbed one of his legs and positioned it into what his captive came to realise was something similar to a pregnancy stirrup he’d seen on TV. The other leg followed suit and was strapped in.

Held stretched open and exposed, Misha’s face burnt and his heart stampeded. When he saw the water bottle make a reappearance he moaned in scared, nauseated protest and bucked.

“Ah ah,” Jared corrected, and smacked Misha’s face hard before pulling out a long, thin probe from somewhere. Again he jerked back in fear, held in place but Jared sighed and stuck the rod inside Misha, pressing a click.

Electric agony ripped through his already tender insides and Misha screamed loud and hoarse, convulsing and thrashing to get away.

“STOP! Please please stop!”

“Will you be good?”

“Yes! Yes I swear!” The agony stopped, and so did Misha, gasping for breath with his chest heaving, body twitching every once in a while with after shocks.

“Good. Now. Time for your medicine.” The only response was a shudder and a whimper as the tube pushed in. The long, insistent slide made him restrain a wriggle at being filled.

It was too much like this morning. Jensen’s face flared through his mind and he sobbed.

There was a small trickling noise and then the fluid started filling him. Misha squirmed uncomfortably at the filing wetness and the icy touch so deep inside. The doctor patted where he was plugged.

“Alright, I’ll be leaving that in for a few hours now. You should get some sleep.” The suggestion was calm; detached from the way the man had just shoved an enema up inside him. Misha whined in desperation at the idea of the fluid being plugged in him for all that time when already it hurt and felt like he had to mess himself really bad. But despite his tugging at the restraints and sobbing cries of displeasure the man left anyway, but not before setting a baby monitor by the bed.

Misha was in pure agony. He couldn’t move, feeling so stuffed and waterlogged, held in place. The normally flat expanse of skin between his hip bones had bloated and his legs shook with the relentless pressure from within.

He tried to coax himself, thinking about how he could get out, any way.

All he could think of and pray for was that on Sunday evening Jensen would come back, and try to find him. At least by Monday. Jensen would know that they were meant to meet, know that Misha wasn’t responding to phone calls, and call around.

He’d go into the house, find the bed unmade, nothing else changed, find his phone…

Missing persons took 24 hours to report, right? But if no one had seen him since Saturday morning, maybe the police would get involved right away.

Misha had watched CSI… There would be fingerprints, surely, some sign of a stranger… someone had to have seen this giant before, or seen him carrying an unconscious man about.

How long would it take to find him? Would there be clues? No one had come when they heard him screaming, but, now, sitting with his silence and pain, Misha thought he’d heard cars…

Would he even live long enough to be rescued?

Misha’s guts twisted even worse at the image of what Jensen’s face would be if he found him like this. The horror and disgust- No. Jensen would run to him, hold him, get that fucking thing out of him and make sure he was okay!

Sobs caught his throat again and he lost himself to dually distracting and disappointing hopes of a make believe rescue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the Kudos! Reviews are love n_n (dirty, bad love! ;P)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: depiction of rape in this chapter. No comfort yet either. Please be sensible with yourself and avoid if necessary.  
> Other than that, go crazy! Er...in a pleasant, joyous manner.

Jared was annoyed, and frustratingly behind schedule. Not that he minded challenges, but the present he was prepping for himself upstairs was one he didn’t want to wait to savour.

So far no less than four ‘concerned’ neighbours had been past, claiming to have ‘heard noises’. Jared blamed either a movie marathon, nightmares from the war, redirection or their own imagination depending on the individual. Most seemed to buy it. But he’d had to start leaving the TV on to cover up some of Misha’s louder screams.

A gag would be his next order… but only after he’d heard what delicious noises came unrestrained from that man when he took him fully. Jared grinned at the thought and headed back upstairs. He’d left it later than he should have as it was. Saturday night was drawing in, and although he’d had a lot of repairing to do on Misha’s perfect body, it wouldn’t do to have him damaged by good will.

Jared climbed the stairs slowly, grabbing a scarf as he did so.

 

ooo

 

Misha was nearly delirious with pain when that psychopath came back in. He managed to keep his eyes vaguely on the approaching figure, but felt to weak to do anything else. If it weren’t for the pain however, exhaustion would have surely dragged him under. And Misha knew that no matter what he didn’t want to be asleep in the same room as Jared.

“How’s the patient. Hmm, excellent retention.” Misha cried in frustration and fear, tugging away at his bonds to gain some relief.

The monster reached between his legs and fingered the plug, but didn’t remove it. Misha sobbed in a vaguely begging way, but he couldn’t form words, and tried to bite the noise back. His time alone had fuelled both his fear and shame.

His legs were unhooked and lowered not with care, but precision so that nothing jostled the tubing. The position switch still made everything build in pressure and he chocked out a gasp of pain. His hands were un-cuffed and Misha ruled out an escape attempt almost as soon as he thought of it, weakness lagging at his limbs in a cruel reminder of how overwrought his body had become.

Jared placed the water bottle on his stomach and managed to lift him without jostling anything enough to spill out, although the jolting made him flinch and cry out in pain and fear. Surely this wasn’t going to be good for him, he was already so sore, he couldn’t take it anymore.

Misha started jerking and thrashing compulsively. To get out of the monsters arms, to get that thing out of him!

Jared hissed and nearly dropped him when he was plonked onto an old tub, legs spread either side so that he was suspended at rim-level. Misha’s jerks slowed through the position and the death grip on the back of his neck. His own hands fisted at the skin on his legs, squeezing to feel anything else, anything. One large hand disappeared under him and jerked out the plug. Misha vomited into the tub at the stress and relief and pain and gushing feeling all at once.

Jared held him upright without compassion, but complimented him for ridding himself of toxins, for being helpless. Misha threw up again.

The removal of the enema and any remaining nutrients from his stomach seemed to take hours. He burned and felt hollow and used, punished, destroyed.

Silent tears struck his face other than gasping breaths. Jared wiped down any dirty spots with alcogel and it stung but he barely felt it, feeling half drowned and suspended in between dumb horror and collapse. His asshole was ‘cleansed’ again with an alcogel shot but it almost just made him sink deeper into some corner of his own mind. For some reason he couldn’t feel it as much as the cold sweat breaking out over his skin, the shivering shake of over stressed muscles throughout his whole body, the thundering of his palpitating heart.

Surely this was death, he was going to die, or slip away. They said people lost the will to live sometimes, was this it? Jensen flared in his mind, but all he could do was weep silently and struggle to breathe.

He wanted Jensen. He wanted him here, to come in and save him, to wake him up, to say everything was okay even if it wasn’t. He gave a weak jerk to get unfriendly hands off him but was dragged back to the bed regardless. White noise was coating his ears and drowning head now, smothering him. He struggled to remember Jensen’s touch as his fingers clawed into the sheet soaked with his own sweat. Hands rolled him over onto his stomach and a part of his mind baulked, became more present.

Grimly and dimly he cracked open his eyes over his shoulder. Jared was standing at the foot of the bed, stripping.

New fight curdled and clawed its way back into his destroyed mind and body, forcing disgust and horror into him thickly.

No. Nonononono! No! He wouldn’t! He wouldn’t! Not with anyone else, not even like this, forced and weak and feeling death trying to catch at him. He couldn’t! He couldn’t be touched like that, used like that, taken by force and punished with sex. It can’t be happening!

Misha thrashed and screamed, fighting the hands on him, shouting and sobbing half the crap in his mind into the air. Jared growled at finding him more of a struggle, fighting like a feral thing with nothing left to loose.

“No! No get off me! Get off me you sick bastard! Don’t fucking touch me! Stop it stop itstopitstopitstopit!”

“I’ve made you all tight and clean and new and perfect for me, found you all wet like a present, gonna make you wet with me now, just me inside you, plug you up.”

Misha sobbed and cursed, weakening, pushed down to the mattress, feeling the hot heavy weight of another man come down slowly on top of him, pinning him. Though he’d fought like the devil he had spots in his eyes, was praying, pleading, cursing, begging, screaming. Hands bruised him and hit, forced his kicking legs apart, settled between. He felt a thick, wet cock burning at his entrance and bucked wildly, screaming.

Jared dropped the hold on him and grabbed the back of his neck, shaking him up and down and around like a dog until he was choking on his own screams and spit, eyes tight shut. He couldn’t look, couldn’t see. The blood flooded and left his head so rapidly and repeatedly that when he was dropped back to the bed he could barely breathe and failed to move leaden limbs more than a few inches.

Huge hands gripped him again and he dragged out a sob of crushing defeat and fear before the first rough shove in through his abused entrance made him gasp and tighten upwards on the bed.

He couldn’t halt the harsh thrusts in; panting in pain with every one and feeling his entire skin crawl in wrongness and shake limply. The pain was all consuming, the knowledge of what was happening, what he couldn’t fight, was destroying.

For all the violent noise of earlier, now the sounds were muted, smothered by cruelty and horror. Jared’s rough grunts in time with the slap and slurp of skin and friction, the increasingly wet squelch barely audible as Misha’s hole was torn and bled, ripped with Jared’s ruthlessly pumping and now dripping cock. Misha punched in gasps and erratic crying screams like a dog chocking a wheezing and dying squeaky ball, high and desperate but low in volume.

The perversity of the moment smothered the tension fraught air until Misha thought he would die, wished he could just die. It felt never ending. His fingers clawed into the sheets and twisted, legs tense and spread. The thrusts sped up, became erratic. Jared’s grunts turned to breathy groans and Misha’s gasp-cries matched the faster rhythm in and out as all consuming pain shredded from his hole throughout his entire tensing body.

The rapist came with a grunt and tight hold, short pumps and then a great gulp of air slowly released. Misha hid his face, burning, itching out of his skin, shuddering and defiled. His face wet with tears as he panted. Every movement shot through him like electrocution. He was barely present, mind shaking from the inside out as Jared forced a wedged plug in, cuffed his hands back to the metal head board and tied a scarf around Misha’s flopping head to serve as a gag.

Misha panted and soaked the scarf with spit as he lay unmoving, incapable. His rump was slapped approvingly and Jared left the attic with slow, jovial steps and a whistle.

Tears leaked freely without sobs.

It was a minute before Misha could manage to move, curling all his body and limbs up and inwards in a foetal curl with a weak cry of pain, hard plastic in him adding lack of relief to agonising abuse.

Misha curled up tight, arms restrained stretched above him, and drowned in hopeless despair and humiliation, violated and alone.

For the first time Misha felt lost and panicked like a child. Terrified.

Storms battered thoughts of no consequence or hideous truth into his mind until he couldn’t fucking bear it.

In a blackness of the mind in every way exhaustion finally bit and clawed him down into, if not sleep or unconsciousness, at least a numb dark shutdown as Misha failed to be able to deal with the trauma his body and mind had just been put through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never completed a scene like that before, so I'm hoping it was written okay, whilst still sounding traumatic... Yeah.  
> Anyway thanks for reading so far, soon shall come Jensen to the rescue! 1/2 chapters maybe?  
> (oh yeah, and the delay between this and last chapter? sorry, all the dogs on the farm I'm working at escaped for a while... They're all back, and safe... some were found juuuust as they were eyeing up some chickens, and one had dug a crater the depth of his own body... heh, sorry, little story tid bit there! ;D couldn't help sharing)  
> Cheers for the kudos and comments! n_n


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rescue down under! Sorry this took a while everyone, I've just come back from travelling and things have been busy! This is nice and long for you all in return n_n

Misha had no idea of how much time had past. No concept that he was even awake and conscious until he heard a car rumbling by. It wasn’t dark, but without windows he couldn’t really tell for sure. The car sounded almost familiar, but the very thought of hope that it was someone he knew made him try to curl inwards in grief.

The movement hurt like hell. The jostling of the plug in his butt froze his motions as he tensed, tried to breathe and relax inner muscles. His face felt swollen too, tongue dry and mouth full of the gag. Fatigue and pain rippled through his body unpleasantly in an unceasing motion.

“The patient shouldn’t try vigorous movement after a medical procedure.” The cold voice made him flinch away as if struck. He didn’t know if he wanted to see where the monster was or not. Weight dipped the bed down beside him and Misha tried to curl away despite uncoordinated, heavy limbs.

A hand found his back and sent him shaking, trailing a slow path down his spine and between his cheeks. Misha couldn’t fight the chocked whimper that escaped him when Jared’s large hand pressed on the plug within him. His legs tried to curl up in defence but were easily dragged away, spread. Misha tensed head to toe and bit into the gag hard, mind spinning with fear and humiliation.

“Good, good don’t fight it.” He couldn’t, even if he wanted to. Jared was bigger, stronger, had horrible tools he wasn’t afraid to use… Misha meanwhile was exhausted, abused, dehydrated and chained to the bed. The powerlessness that washed over him was hateful and smothering and stoked the flames of his rising terror and pulse rate. Deft powerful fingers gripped and pulled out the plug in his ass with one firm motion. It burned and was out before he could try to push to ease the way. His breath chocked off weakly with a smothered sound as Misha pressed his face to the bed. The ripping pain had his legs shaking like a pair of slinkies. Probing fingers prodded at his hole.

Misha could feel the somewhat sluggish trail of thick warm liquid. Not like a normal discharge of sperm… Probably blood. Far too much of it. The thought made him sick. The one time Jensen had made him bleed after they went a bit too hard it had been a puny amount but his lover had still been appalled at himself and demanded to see to it properly, even whilst Misha assured that he was fine…

“Hmm… Not quite as wet as I’d like yet, need to get you as dripping as I found you, nice and full. Although the looseness is progressing nicely.” Three fingers pushed into him and stretched experimentally. Misha gasped a scream, whole body arching and rising off and away from the bed to escape the pain, going blind at the agony.

“So nearly perfect.” Misha thrashed just once and managed to dislodge the catching fingers with a whimper. There was a harsh inhale of disapproval from the man above him and a rod was pushed inside him. Electricity burned and shot through him again like fire ripping through his insides. Misha screamed, voice hoarse and muffled by the gag. Everything whirled and sped up in his mind like a panic storm before slowing to almost deathly black when the charge stopped. Misha collapsed back to the bed, fingers twitching and body shuddering with repetitive jerking convulsions for a time.

“There.” There was a satisfied breath. “Now, are you going to fight me any more Misha?” Gasping through his gagged and gaping mouth, drool wetting the material, burning, eyes rolled up…Misha couldn’t reply.

“I asked,” A harsh whack to his aching rump and another in quick succession smacking around the back of his already smarting head. “Are you going to fight me?” He tried a shake, more like a rapid junkie’s head twitch and back with the convulsions. “I can’t hear you.” Came the smirking reply.

Misha sobbed and tried to say ‘no’, first it came out as a rattle of breath until he struggled through a sound. He was still gagged even if he was capable of speech.

“Good. Now, are you going to be a good patient?” Misha nodded weakly with a little moan of affirmation. The stroke down his trembling flanks made him repress a flinch into a shudder.

“Good. Now lets get you perfect.”

In a rough move too swift for him to comprehend Jared was over him and pushing inside again roughly. Misha’s high-pitched noise of horror and agony and his body’s instinctual shudder away did nothing to the insistent push. Everything just opened or ripped up around the thick penetration, he had no muscle control left other than a constant shuddering tremor as Jared pounded into him, forcing him to bite the gag tight enough to nearly feel the pain in his jaw. All thought left except the begging plea to fall unconscious or just to let go and have it be over, let it all be over.

Misha didn’t know if he blacked out during or after the assault, the pain was so all consuming when he woke, stuffed with a bigger plug and full of his rapist’s come. He was just thankful that he had as he cried numbly into the silence and gag, mind fractured into panicked or escaped thoughts, unable to form anything coherent without fear or pain.

He drifted in and out of reality and terror until the man came back, and though his whole body shook so bad he could barely move and terror flooded him, he didn’t dare fight. Misha stared wide eyed and panicked at the wall, panting desperately fast as he was manhandled about, not understanding Jared’s babbling over his horrified mantra of ‘oh God’ and ‘make it stop’… Until Jared was pushing inside over the discharge of fluid and tearing him too completely, Misha’s eyes slammed shut and he didn’t breathe unless it was forced in and out of him with a thrust. Nothing but pain and anguish coated his spiralling mind.

 

ooo

 

Jared was very satisfied. He smiled to himself as he sat on the bed, waggling three fingers around in Misha’s sloppy entrance. He could feel the rawness of the inside, mirrored in every twitch of the nearly unconscious body beneath him. Yes, this was perfect. His large hand met no resistance even as he pushed in a fourth finger.

There was a low guttural rattle of caged breath as Jared toyed his thumb around the swollen edge, playing with pushing it in. He weighed the danger of the patient haemorrhaging to the delight he would take in fisting him, seeing how wet and open Misha was, it wouldn’t take much effort, but the likelihood of serious damage was high, and he had time yet-

The doorbell shattered the silence of the house, and Jared cursed and curled his fingers possessively as Misha tensed with a breath. He grabbed the dark hair beneath him and spun his prize’s head towards him, reading eyes nearly rolled back. No need to fear then. Jared eyed the limp hands resting where they were cuffed to the bed, some circulation was undoubtedly cut off, he should really fix that. But it might be too much risk to un-cuff the patient. Even if he’d learnt to behave, his prize was too valuable to be allowed to roll off the bed and damage himself.

Jared grabbed the key from his pocket and loosened them enough to allow more blood flow. The doorbell rang again. The neighbours couldn’t be ignored. Misha was quiet enough now that he hadn’t had any more callers, but it wouldn’t do to seem suspicious. He went to return the key to his pocket, casting one last sweeping glance over Misha, and cursed.

As the doorbell rang yet again Jared hastily and roughly shoved the plug back inside Misha, who was still positioned knees under chest to allow the man’s inspection.

“Coming!” He bellowed down at the increasing frequency of rings, and turned to hurry down, wiping his hands on a passing throwaway sheet as he went.

Just a wait until dark, and he’d drive Misha out to the old hunting house his father had used. There he could keep his prize in perfect condition without snooping citizens… And if the man didn’t make the trip, or proved too difficult or fragile, he could dispose of the body with greater ease.

Just one more neighbour to direct away first. Jared opened the door with a neutral expression, unable to completely hide his frustration with the knocking.

 

ooo

 

Misha thought he was imagining it at first, the sound of a car stopping… But the doorbell rang. He hadn’t heard anyone come to the house, maybe they’d come inside? Maybe he could shout? Misha tensed and nearly gave himself away, but he wasn’t so far gone that he didn’t feel adrenaline trying to shake his limbs into action, speeding his heart. A slice of light shredded into his mind.

Play dead. Just play dead.

The thought swarmed his mind and to be honest, wasn’t difficult to achieve; the movement of his head as his hair was roughly grabbed and jerked back smothered him with enough dizziness that Misha nearly blacked out for real.

Jared left him with his hands beginning to sting mercilessly from regained circulation, still too tight for him to escape from, and plugged once more. Misha barely managed to cant slightly onto his side as heavy steps headed downstairs. His heart thudded in his chest, anticipation skirting somewhere close to full blown panic attack, and tried to control his increasingly frantic breathing in order to hear what was going on.

Having only half his awareness left at best didn’t make it easy, and he was throttled with nerves. What if he shouted, and the door person didn’t hear, but Jared did, and came up to ‘punish’ him…maybe even kill him? What if the person left to call the police but it was too late? What if Jared took down the person at the door if they heard? What if it was another psycho that Jared had in his phone book?

Misha sobbed a little with nausea and fret tightening his insides, willing himself to focus through the spinning haze of exhaustion, adrenalin and his own increasing delirium from the agony he had suffered. Now that a sliver of hope had been dangled in front of him, he couldn’t bare the thought of being left alone with the man again, felt terrified for what should befall him if he shouted and something went wrong… Too many risks… but what would it cost him if he didn’t try this opportunity, it could be his last-

The door opened. Thank God he could hear it. Precious moments slipped by in terrified indecision. From downstairs, as Misha’s breath snagged his throat, voices filtered up, and made him freeze dead in disbelief.

“Hey man, we were wondering if you’d seen-“ His eyes widened as he nearly gagged in a torrent of emotions for a split second.

“-your neighbour recently from a few blocks down-“

Fucking God, Jesus, Holy Spirit and heavenly hell.

“MMMmmMMM!” His scream was mutilated into a vowel and consonant-less cry but it carried well for desperation and volume.

Floors below him, the silence seemed to freeze.

 

ooo

 

Jensen’s agitation skyrocketed as he punched at the doorbell on the house a few down from Misha’s. Nice fucking neighbourhood his ass. Every muscle was tense, every organ twisted in fury and terror and desperation.

His Misha. His Misha fucking kidnapped. No way in hell!

Mark and Seb stood next to him, anxious as he was and trying to peer into the windows of the house to see if anyone was in. Jensen growled and slammed on the bell again, repetitively.

He had to calm down. He couldn’t just come out and bellow ‘What the fuck have you done with my partner you creep?’ It could all be false… and part of him still prayed that Misha would call any second and say ‘Sorry, fell asleep on a bus and woke up in Tijuana, crazy birthday!’

But no. Because they’d found his phone, the fucking thing he was glued at the damn hip to. Found it in his bedroom, with the four unread messages from Jensen on there. Along with his clothes, and messy sheets…

Thank fucking God that Mark had been there and warned him before he’d gone ballistic. The man didn’t even have time to do more than drag him away from crushing the phone in horror before Seb came running up the stairs after, managing to talk to him and get him focused.

Apparently when they’d gone to grab Misha for his belated birthday just hours before Jensen had arrived back the house had been in the same state. Of course every one of Misha’s friends knew where he kept the spare key. Well hidden, but well known. They’d set off to ring around his favourite haunts, check the networks of acquaintances, and finally asked around the neighbours.

Mrs. Bradshaw had seen nothing but her husband had security cameras out front and caught some movement in the back garden he assumed was one of Misha’s oddities. The family that shared a back garden wall had two kids that had seen ‘Uncle Mish Mish’ playing firemen with one of the gladiators off the TV. As they extended their search, several neighbours claimed to have heard noises from the house on the corner, and that the new resident was charming but apparently liked movie marathons, was a war hero with terrible nightmares, had had a lovely relative with the same name as the asker or suggested that they had misheard, because their was a screeching child being walked past with their mother earlier and it had surprised the man too.

Several other neighbours had also heard things, but done nothing or convinced themselves otherwise…

Jensen listened through once, face tight, skin draining of colour, hands balling into white clenches, turned around and begun marching down the street. Mark and Seb hurried to keep up, Mark suggesting to call the police.

“They wont come before I can get to the door. Call them on the way!” Jensen ordered back, speeding up. Mark swore but retrieved his phone none the less. Seb hurried beside Jensen and indicated the suspected house.

They had no proof. None whatsoever. Jensen knew he should call the police…

But if some psycho had Misha…

God dammit. He felt viscerally sick, but stamped it down, forced it back and took some calming breaths.

He took those breaths again as he heard footsteps on the stairs, demanding his body to calm. This was just a reccy. If he sniffed a hair out of place he’d call the police.

God if Misha had been gone since he left that text saying he’d taken a taxi to the airport…

The door opened to an unimpressed face on a giant of a man. Jensen’s mind cracked the image into ‘suspect’…but he managed to make his voice remain even despite his rising bile again over Misha. Was this man a kidnapper? A serial killer? Drug tycoon? Repo man gone rogue… God he was even panic thinking like Misha.

“Hey man, we were wondering if you’d seen your neighbour recently from a few blocks down-“

“MMMmmMMM!” An electric jolt went through Jensen, because wordless scream or not, he would recognise Misha’s voice anywhere. Slowly, his eyes met those of the giant man, and for a moment both of them paused, frozen in a moment of tension and staring. Rage boiled over Jensen and he saw the man’s eyes twitch at the exact moment his own did.

It was impossible to tell who moved first but Jensen lunged for the giant with a roar, ploughing into him and knocking him back into the house. Mark and Seb swore behind him and ran in to help. A blessing as it turned out because the man was built like a tank and managed to land a sturdy blow to Jensen’s ribs even as the shorter man whip cracked his face to the floor.

The added weight of Seb and Mark sent the man bellowing to the floor struggling, and Jensen took full advantage of the opening to smash his fist in a knockout blow to the monster’s head.

He stood back, panting and heart pounding for a second, trying to shake the image of what those huge hands would look like on Misha’s lithe body, how much damage they could do.

“Tie him up.” He growled furiously, and tore his eyes away, turning to run to the stairs. “And call the police!” He bellowed back, seeing them already in action. Jensen took the stairs three at a time, heart aching and strangling itself over Misha.

“Misha!” His shout was met by another wordless scream, the sounds of thrashing upstairs. “I’m coming! Keep calling me baby so I can find you!” Misha didn’t let him down, but by the time he was scrambling full speed up the sharp staircase to an attic, doors already open, the cries were getting weaker. Jensen burst through and did a minute horrified scan of the room before his gaze zeroed in on Misha.

Misha, who was tied up, cuffed to the bed, swollen and bruised and bleeding and staring at him with tear filled eyes, shaking like a leaf.

“Oh my God, Misha!” Jensen muttered in a strangled cry, and stumbled forwards, body quickly cranking back into motion from the sight of his lover in such a state. Misha moaned weakly and slumped down before thrashing feebly against his bindings and wincing with a muffled cry.

“Shit, baby, shush, don’t try to move yet, I’ve got you.” Jensen got to the bed and saw what must be the key for the cuffs beside Misha. Without pause he grabbed it and fumbled with the restraints swiftly. Misha snatched his hands back and into his chest instantly before darting them out to claw into Jensen’s shirt.

“I’m here, I know. Can I…Shit Mish.” Jensen hurried to reach and grab the scarf gagging Misha, twisting it free as Misha clung on to him, trembling and crying as if they might be ripped apart. Jensen eased the material out of the smaller man’s mouth and bit back bile and horror at the flinch away from him at the brush of his hands.

“Oh God baby…”

Misha was in a state, he looked sick as hell, had a bandaged arm that was bruised, his wrists were raw and imprinted with the cuffs… he had blood all over his thighs and-

“Oh God.” There was a plug in Misha… He’d been, that man had…

“Misha, Misha baby, look at me, please, please.” Jensen pleaded, crouching down to Misha’s eye level and waiting till clenched blues had cracked open and came to rest on him. There was something harsh and trapped in his eyes amongst the fog and tears. It broke every bone in Jensen’s body.

“Can I, God can I touch you?” Misha’s façade broke at Jensen’s near frantic tone, his raised hands in peace. Jensen saw Misha’s face crumple and heard him sob as he lurched awkwardly forwards to press his face close as he could get it.

“Jensen!” Misha cried out a bit, sounding delirious and pushed out of his mind, exhausted. Jensen hurried to cradle his partner’s head, heart racing and trying to calm himself down, Misha didn’t need him freaking out right now, much as he wanted to go be sick in the corner. It took a lot of steel to not look around the room too.

“I’ve got you, I’m here, and it’s over now.” By the sob into his shirt, he could tell that Misha didn’t know whether to believe him or not.

“I’m, he, Jen,”

“Shh, shh, I know. I know. I’m gonna get you out of here okay? You’re gonna be alright.” He hurried to try and calm Misha, whose breathing was turning atrocious as the shaking continued. Jensen pressed a faint kiss to his hairline and rubbed circles into his hair, same as he would do to calm Misha down. The smaller man attempted to curl into him but stopped short with a choke. Jensen didn’t have time to remember the plug before Misha was thrashing in his arms again and crying with frustrated desperation.

“Woah woah, Misha easy baby, talk to me-“

“Get it, its, I can’t-“ Misha’s voice broke and he flopped back, something about the frown in his eyebrows stabbed Jensen with worry. Misha didn’t give up, not his Misha. Rage and protectiveness swarmed over him.

“Okay, okay I’ve got it. Try and relax for me?” His voice came out steady, in control. Misha shook slightly beneath his hands but didn’t flinch until Jensen had eased his legs apart and touched the base of the plug.

“Easy, easy, I’m not going to hurt you, okay? Just push out for me if you can alright?” Misha sobbed, buried his face beneath him and tried. Jensen could see that he tried. But he could also see the abuse, and God the blood. Jensen bit back a torrent of sickening emotions and kept his hand steady. He had to practically pull it out himself, but he went slowly enough that Misha managed to not tear again.

The gush of blood and semen from Misha after the plug was removed was awful, and his hole stayed open, barely fluttering, just too abused. Jensen swallowed thickly and moved his hand to the relative safe area of Misha’s back, stroking him.

“Okay, it’s all done baby. Gonna get you out of here now, get you taken care of and bring you home.” Misha’s sob this time was more genuinely relieved, but also more vulnerable. It broke Jensen’s heart.

His hand ghosted over Misha’s forehead, feeling the heat coming off him, seeing the tortured pallor of his skin. A heavy lidded eye forced open, met Jensen’s… He could tell Misha was trying his hardest not to freak out, not to believe Jensen saw the worst in him now. Slowly he leant down, and met Misha’s eyes solidly, holding them captive.

“We’re in this together, right? I’m with you, and I’ll always stick with you, as long as you want me, I’m going to be right here with you. Okay? You’ve gotta try and believe that for me Mish, because I don’t ever want to let you hurt again.” Dazed eyes flickered between his, and Jensen spared Misha the stress of replying in favour of stripping off his jumper. The quiet worried him though, Misha’s silver tongue was just one thing his lover rarely put on standby.

Jensen moved carefully, mindful of injuries, and slotted one of Misha’s arms into a sleeve, rolling him slowly onto his back to do the second one and zip up the jumper. There were sirens in the area now, and Jensen wanted Misha to at least have his dignity before being bombarded.

Once he was finished he debated using something from in the room to clothe Misha, who was tucking himself slowly and with painful inching movements into the taller man’s jumper and body. He decided against. Misha wouldn’t want it and the police would need to document everything.

In the end he quickly texted Seb, not easing on the severity he informed that Misha had been raped and was really sick, and to warn the police and get a blanket from them. Finished, he turned back to Misha. Fuzzy blue eyes were looking at him blearily.

“Love you.” Jensen intoned, softly, deeply. Misha shuddered but it seemed like relief. He crackled in a breath and crumpled into Jensen.

“Love you too.” The whispered croak was barely audible, but it was enough. Jensen kissed Misha’s sweaty and matted hair, and eased the smaller man up into his arms.

There was some discomfort and pained breathing, but Misha leant into him as if he was made from silk and satin, dropping his heated forehead heavily into Jensen’s neck and raking in breaths.

Jensen focused on nothing but getting down stairs, and having Misha in his arms.

Thankfully that man had been taken away somewhere, and Seb hurried over to the bottom of the stairs with a blanket, draping it over Misha without a word and squeezing Jensen’s shoulder. Misha didn’t look up. Jensen didn’t even think he could by now.

A policeman gently took Jensen’s arm and questioned, not lowly enough to be secretive, but enough to give the illusion of privacy, whether needed anything on the way to the hospital, if he was going to stay with Misha. He informed that they would have to take statements from all three of them and pictures of Misha at the hospital, and that the man had been taken to the police station down town and would be held on charges of kidnap, others pending the hospital’s assessment.

Jensen tried not to fume at that, he’d seen enough, but Misha was shaking against him and dragging in breath uncertainly. He was far more scared to death at the tremulous state of his Misha than angry at the police right now.

They were bundled into a police car and sped towards the hospital with sirens blazing.

Jensen held Misha to his chest in the back, seeing his unseeing and open eyes gradually cloud over, breath rattling. All he could do was mutter assurances and love when Misha shook against him, and kept up the soothing strokes of his hand over the weakened body, urging Misha to keep going and pull through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you ENDLESSLY and SO MUCH for the wondrous reviews of kindness and delight! I hope you enjoyed this chappie and yes, there will be more to follow.  
> Thanks for reading n_n


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